


Ghost Children

by curiouslyblessed



Category: Mulberry (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 09:23:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiouslyblessed/pseuds/curiouslyblessed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mulberry finds some unlikely friends while in a graveyard. A little!Mulberry fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghost Children

There was mist in the graveyard the first time he saw them. His father was always leaving him in places like that—graveyards, mausoleums, funeral parlors. This time it was a little graveyard off of a lonely highway somewhere deep in the woods of England. Mulberry seldom knew the names of the places where his father left him. “The names of human places are no concern of ours,” Death said when Mulberry asked him. So there Mulberry sat, on the grave of someone called “Joseph” chattering away to his newfound friend.

“Dad is always leaving me in graveyards. I just wish he’d leave me with mum once in a while. That is, if I have a mum. I was never too sure of that, Joey m’lad. Did you have a mum?” Mulberry’s face fell when his friend didn’t answer. “Oh well then. Y’know, Joey, it would be brilliant if just once someone would speak to me.”

A slight rustling of the leaves was his only answer. Mulberry sighed.

“Hi.”

He turned to see a little boy peeking out from behind one of the gravestones. “Hello! My name’s Mulberry, what’s yours?”

The little boy ducked behind the stone.

“Don’t be frightened! I promise I won’t hurt you!”

“I’m Joseph.”

“Funny, this fellow’s name was…” Mulberry paused. “Hold on, are you and this Joseph the same Joseph?”

“Yes.”

“That means you’re a ghost,” Mulberry scrambled to his feet. “I’ve never met a ghost before,” he rushed over to the headstone where Joey was hiding. “What’s it like?”

Joey poked his head around the stone. “You’re not meant to be able to see me.”

“I’m not meant to be able to do a lot of things, but that doesn’t stop me from doing them. So, tell me, what is being a ghost like?”

He stepped out from behind the stone, eyeing Mulberry warily. “It’s cold and lonely. No one can see us.”

“Us? Are there more of you, then?”

Joey nodded. “There’s me and Sarah and Lucas.”

“Can I meet them as well? Only, it’s not often that I can find someone to play with,” Mulberry tried his best to smile in a friendly and disarming manner. 

This strange little boy, with the dark, sad eyes looked at him as if trying to figure out what someone so cheerful was doing in a graveyard well after midnight. The eyes questioned Mulberry’s intentions. Was he there to somehow do harm to the ghost children?

“Please, Joseph, I’d really like to play. I haven’t got anyone.”

Without any apparent provocation, two children appeared.

“Hello,” said the little girl, rushing over to Mulberry. “I’m Sarah, Sarah Farnaby and this is Lucas,” she leaned in close, “he doesn’t speak much, don’t mind him.”

Lucas nodded silently. 

“And forgive Joseph, he was killed during the war by bad men so he’s suspicious of everyone.”

“Sarah,” Joey frowned. “You can’t just tell people things like that.”

“Can so,” she stuck out her tongue. “I had a bad cold from sitting in the rain and died. Lucas was struck by a lorry, weren’t you Lucas?”

Lucas nodded again.

“See, he doesn’t mind me telling his story. How about you, Mulberry, how did you die?”

“I— uh— well—” how could he tell these dear children that he wasn’t sure if he was even dead at all. Maybe he was alive. His father had never been very helpful on the subject when asked. So Mulberry decided to do what he did best: make up stories. “I was killed by pirates.”

“Pirates,” Sarah’s eyes lit up and she crowed closer. “Tell us how!”

Joey and Lucas crept up behind her, taking their places to listen.

“Well, first you must understand why I went to sea…”

Mulberry went on for hours with fantastic tales of his completely fictional exploits on the high seas. He illustrated swashbuckling stories of sword fights with hardened pirate captains of dubious nature by swinging his arms to and fro. He told quieter tales about how he wooed the daughters of said captains and turned them onto the path of righteousness.

When he finally finished, Sarah was the first to speak. “That was fantastic! Did you really do all of those things?”

“I most certainly did,” Mulberry preened.

Joey was, however, suspicious. “He couldn’t have, Sarah, he’s only twelve!”

“You did exciting things before you were twelve!”

“I was a Jewish boy running messages for the French Resistance. Of course I did exciting things! They were also bloody stupid and they got me killed!”

“Then these adventures fit with how he said he died,” Sarah rolled her eyes. “Honestly, he’s too suspicious.”

“He has reason to be,” Mulberry acknowledged.

“I think he’s completely wrong, though, and I want you—as you’re a famous fighter and all—to have something.”

“What’s that then?”

“This,” she lifted a chain from around her neck. On it was a single golden ring. She detached the ring and handed it to Mulberry. “My future husband was supposed to wear this. But, as I don’t think I’ll ever marry, I’d like you to have it.”

Mulberry started to protest but Sarah held up a hand. She leaned in. “I know they were just stories. After all, you’re not the subtlest person in the world. But I still want you to have this and before you say a single word I’d like you to remember that this is about what I want not what you do.”

After a few moments of silence he decided on: “Thank you.”

She started to smile but her eyes grew wide with fright instead. “That’s him, he’s the one who took us!”

The children scattered and disappeared into the mist. Mulberry turned to his father. “Dad… what did you have to do that for? It was a terrible thing t’ do! I finally had friends,” tears ran in rivers down his cheeks. 

Death knelt down next to his son and in a rare moment of compassion wiped the tears from his eyes. “Mulberry, there are things that you need to know about our kind. The first one is that humans—dead or otherwise—will always fear and hate us. Not because we are cruel, but because they don’t understand us.”

“It’s not fair,” he whimpered.

“I know son. I know.”


End file.
